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Genesis Monstros
Genesis Monstros Monsters first came into the world when the Old Gods noticed that no progress was being made in Aldera’s communities. The people were content with what they had, and knew that to exploit the land was to eventually deplete it, but this meant that no innovation was occuring. The beasts kept for food and other resources were docile, and the ecosystems that supported them kept their predators well away from the sapients that would deplete their numbers in the name of protection. Rona, god of death and the desert sands, took matters into his own hands. He took the sands of his domain and crafted them into a variety of shapes, each more monstrous than the last. He gave them teeth and claws of hardened bone, spines and fangs filled with venom, and hardened skin that would yield to naught but the most powerful of magic. He took the sand from the coast and gave it fins and gills and eyes that glowed in the deep waters, and with a mighty breath he dove to the deepest region of the seafloor and gave it malice toward the surface. Then, with gentle eyes and firm determination, he gave his sands to the other four gods and guided them in doing the same. They were reluctant, but they knew that for their people to advance, adversity was necessary. The birth of monsters was devastating to the people of Aldera. The Gods watched in anguish as their people, caught unawares, were slaughtered by the vicious new creations. They intervened wherever they could excuse it, but sometimes they forced themselves to stay their hands, knowing it would pay off for their people in the end. The people adapted. First they fought with their bodies, the zebrataurs of the Grasslands bludgeoning monsters with their hooves and the forest-dwellers sharpening their claws, which had only ever been used for climbing. Then they began to invent, bringing forest spears and slings and knives into being, and then wooden swords and sharpened pitchforks. Bine descended to the mountain forges and taught how to layer steel and iron into metal swords and armor, and Nerida taught how to freeze water and call lightning and whip up whirlwinds. Rona allowed himself to be seen combatting a particularly vicious monster that had gotten too close to a major settlement for even his comfort, and the people memorized his movements and inferred an entirely new style of martial arts. Cor appeared from the mist and leaves, teaching how to turn the plants into poisons, and how to wind vines around the limbs of monsters with merely a twitch. It was Tava who helped the most. She appeared in the Grasslands in a swirl of leaves, tears streaming down her face. Life knew that death was inevitable, the sea was unforgiving, the forge knew that beating something down was required to temper it. But healing was antithesis to everything that the monsters stood for. So instead of changing her people, Tava changed herself. She stood in front of a monster a hundred times her size, one that roared with fire and the blood of her people. She pointed at it, her finger shaking, and extended her power to heal. And healed. And healed. The flesh of the monster bubbled out, firming its joints and covering its eyes. Its throat closed off with new flesh, and the gashes her people had inflicted closed over and over and over. The weight of its body pulled it to the ground, and its chest heaved as it struggled to breath. When the beast had at last dissolved back into the sand it came from, Tava collapsed. She did not stop weeping for days, and this time, it was her people that healed her.